What Are Friends For?
by AnziPanzi
Summary: Dexter Vex hasn't had it easy. Ever. The Dead Men will change that. Because friends protect each other, no matter what. Will most likely contain Vex/Rue later on.
1. Chapter 1

**For queerbadger on Twitter, who wanted headcanony stuff! This is only the first chapter, so other ideas shall be added in later! I hope you like it!**

**So this is slightly AU, and set just before the war really built and became serious (so maybe around 1820). Warnings for violence, mentions of abuse, and some Vex/Rue later on**

"Is this seat taken?"

Dexter Vex glanced up from the dirty spot of the table he had been staring at; his fingers tightened around his flagon of beer too tightly for a person that was comfortable. The appearance of the man before him had startled him; slightly shorter than average, tousled brown hair, startlingly blue eyes. He realised he hadn't answered yet; too busy staring. "Uh.. No. No, it's not."

Pity struck Saracen as he stood over the other man. There were trace amounts of happy surprise in Vex's expression. Did the poor sap honestly think Saracen was coming over to sit with him? Saracen didn't even know him, except to see him around.

The taller man's face twitched like he was trying to speak again, but it was either anxiety or a silly excitement that kept cutting him off.

Saracen had just wanted to take the chair and go.

It wasn't surprising that Vex was sitting on his own. As far as Saracen had been able to see, the tall man didn't exactly have any friends. He didn't even seem to try to socialise. His choice to remain neutral in the building war with Mevolent didn't gain him much popularity, either. Everyone thought him a bit strange, and avoided him carefully. Usually, Vex sat by himself in a secluded corner, nursing his drink and glaring at the table; today, he seemed to have been reluctantly forced into the middle of the bar because all the quiet, secluded corners were filled by chatting groups of friends or amorous couples.

Saracen, however, had a group he belonged to. He glanced helplessly over his shoulder at said group. Hopeless grinned and gave him a thumbs up from their full table. All Saracen needed to join the table was a chair. And the only empty chair in the whole bar happened to be directly opposite Dexter Vex.

Reluctantly, Saracen set his drink down on the table. He hoped he wouldn't offend Vex too much by simply taking the chair and leaving. Saracen pulled on the chair, prepared to drag it across the room with it, but got a sudden jerk back.

He could have sworn he heard someone across the room snort. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a grinning Ghastly and shot him a glare. Looking down, he spotted screws anchoring each rickety leg into the dirty floor. Since when?! He thought wildly. Saracen could have sworn he'd seen people rearrange the chairs before.

Vex was looking at him now, studying the shorter man like he was starting to suspect this wasn't the friendly gesture he'd originally interpreted it as.

In fact, almost everyone was watching him now. Even Shudder had stirred from passive disinterest to fascination; his head was tilted delicately to the side, as though he were committing the entire situation to memory.

Seeing no other option, Saracen slid into the empty chair and tried to play off his earlier actions as an attempt to simply adjust his chair. He shuffled a little to authenticate his actions. "So... How's it going?"

"Ah.."

"Is that too personal a question? Sorry." The dark haired man said quickly, shaking his head. To cover up the awkward silence, he took a deep drink of his beer.

And promptly choked.

Dexter stared in pure bewilderment at the red-faced, spluttering man across from him. It was times like these he regretted not having more people skills. "Um.. It's Rue, right?"

Still gagging a little, Saracen just nodded.

"Right... You okay?"

Wiping his streaming eyes, Saracen cleared his throat and nodded again. "Yeah, yeah. Just had a tickle in the back of my throat, you know?"

"Sure."

Another awkward silence.

"You can go back to your friends. I don't mind." Dexter couldn't help the flash of amusement he felt as the smaller man's eyes widened. He had actually thought he was being subtle. How sweet.

"Whuh? Oh, no! No, no- I don't know what you mean."

"Really?" Vex deadpanned.

"Want another the drink?"

It was the most unsubtle change of subject Dexter had ever witnessed, and he barely managed to hold back a laugh. "I don't-"

"I'll get you a drink."

Raising an eyebrow, Dexter remained silent and watched the smaller man stumble to his feet and hurry over to the bartender. 'Strange man,' he thought to himself. He was very aware of being eyed up by Rue's friends; the scarred man wasn't even trying to be discrete. It seemed almost as though he was judging Dexter's ragged clothes.

"I'm back! Um... I got whiskey."

Dexter eyed the drink that was set before him. "I don't have any.. I can't afford to pay you back."

"Hm? Oh, don't worry about it."

Somewhat bothered by the other man's blasé attitude, Dexter ran a hand through his dirty, blond hair. "Thank you." He mumbled reluctantly, picking up the glass and taking a deep drink.

And promptly choked.

Coughing, Vex pushed away the whiskey and glared at it. "That.. that's strong."

"You've never had whiskey before?" Saracen was watching the taller man choke, grinning slightly. Realising the grin was out of place, he quickly wiped it off his face.

"Of course I have." Dexter managed to say after his choking had subsided. In truth, he had only ever had watered-down whiskey, never such a fine quality. It burned his throat.

"Want me to get you some water?"

"I'm fine."

More silence.

"So..."

Dexter wanted to curse. Why did this man keep trying to make conversation?!

"Neutral. That's an interesting choice. I thought only the Necromancers were choosing to stay neutral."

"I've heard too many opinions on my allegiance. I don't need to hear yours."

"Hey, I wasn't going insult you or anything." Saracen frowned. "There's nothing wrong with being neutral."

"There are a lot of men who wouldn't agree with that."

"Well, I'm not one of them."

Another silence; this one, however, wasn't quite as awkward.

"So... Why?"

"Why what?" His tone was still guarded, but the alcohol seemed to be loosening his tongue somewhat. He took the chance to carefully observe Saracen.

"Why neutral? I mean, no one is ever really neutral. Everyone has a side they lean towards, even slightly. So... Which side do you lean towards?"

"If I were leaning towards a side, I wouldn't be neutral."

"Now you're just being stubborn."

A tiny smile tilted up the corners of Dexter's lips, and he noticed that Saracen mirrored the expression. "I don't know. I don't want to be involved in a war."

"No one wants to be involved in a war. But it's happening whether we like it or not."

"Hmm." Dexter leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at the smaller man. "Are you trying to recruit me, Rue?"

An airy laugh escaped Saracen's mouth, and he waved a hand. "Of course not, that would be disrespectful of your choice to remain neutral."

"Hm."

"Although I'm sure we could use a soldier like you. You look well-built. Do you work out?"

"No." Dexter arched an eyebrow.

Saracen laughed, before stopping abruptly. "No? What are you talking about?"

"I... don't work out."

"But..." His gaze fell on Dexter's bare arms. Under a thin layer of grime, the corded muscle was clearly visible. Washboard abs could be seen from under the cheap, thin woollen shirt he was wearing. "How can you not work out? Your body is, like, perfect."

The already arched eyebrow almost disappeared into Dexter's blond hair. "Hard physical labour will do that."

"What kind of physical labour?"

"I've heard of you, you know." Dexter interrupted calmly, leaning forwards across the table. "You're meant to 'know things'. It sounds a bit pretentious to me. But right now, I'm curious; why are you asking me so many questions? Shouldn't you know all this?"

"I may know _things_, but I don't know _everything_." Saracen tapped his chin calmly, tilting his head to the side. "Can you answer me?"

They were both quiet as they observed each other. "Farm work."

"Cool." A grin stretched across Saracen's face, and he opened his mouth to ask another question.

Before the words even left his tongue, and a skeletal hand fell over the brown-haired man's shoulder. "Ready to go?"

Startled at the sight of the famous skeleton, Dexter leaned back in his seat and watched as Saracen glanced around and grinned at his friends. It was as though he had expected them to creep up behind him. "I'll follow you out."

The skeleton nodded, and Dexter could feel those empty eye-sockets staring at him. It was an unsettling feeling.

Once his friends had gone, Saracen turned back and smiled at Vex. "I'd better go. Listen, think about joining us, yeah? I meant it when I said we could use a soldier like you."

Running his hand through his blond hair, Dexter sighed. "I don't-"

"Just think about it. And if you change your mind, meet me outside here tomorrow evening at six o'clock. You can come along with us on a short little recon mission, just to get a feel for our group. Nothing permanent. Will you do it?"

"I... Just to see what it's like?"

"Exactly."

"I'm not agreeing to join your little club."

"It's not a club. It's a group. It's manly. Will you come?"

"...I don't know."

"That's okay. I know you will."

...

Dexter scuffed his already scuffed shoes against the ground outside the tavern; the leather soles looked as though they were about to fall right off.

Saracen was late.

Glancing around impatiently again, Dexter decided to simply give up on waiting. No one was coming. His shoulders slumped, and he pushed himself away from the wall of the tavern and shoved his hands deep in his pockets as he stalked away.

"Hey! _Hey_, Vex! Where're you going?"

Turning back around, Dexter caught sight of Rue strolling up to him, grinning. "You're late." Was the only thing he could bring himself to say.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Only a little bit, though."

"An hour and fifteen minutes."

Saracen tilted his head to the side and regarded the taller man curiously. "You waited for me for an hour and fifteen minutes."

"Yeah. Stupid of me."

"Can I ask why you waited?"

He wanted to make a witty, cutting remark. Instead, he found himself saying; "Nothing better to do, I suppose."

A silence fell over them, and they both watched each other intently.

Saracen was the one to break it. "The others are waiting. Come with me."

Nodding without a word, Dexter followed him down the road. He recognised the way they were walking; out of the village, towards the forest.

As they neared the dense foliage, Dexter caught sight of figures in the trees. "Your friends?" He guessed, peering passed the branches.

"Yeah. I'll introduce you now." Saracen promised as they stepped into the forest. He led the taller man through the trees and bushes, until they reached what looked like a small encampment.

The so-called 'Dead Men' were sitting, sprawled across the forest floor.

Clapping his hands together, Saracen beamed cheerfully. "Right! Introductions!"

"Shut up, Saracen."

"That's Ghastly. Ignore him, he's got a hangover."

The scarred man had his left arm draped over his eyes, as though the sunlight hurt his head. His clothes were well-tailored, but looked strong and durable; Dexter found himself envying them.

"That there is Anton Shudder." Saracen was pointing at a tall, dark, pale man now. The man nodded politely to Dexter, and his eyes glinted curiously. "Don't ask him any questions; he'll bore you to tears." Saracen added in a whisper to Dexter.

No one seemed to notice the way the tall blond man shifted uncomfortably away from the close proximity to Saracen.

"That," Saracen continued, pointing to a handsome man with golden eyes, "is Erskine Ravel. He's a total ladies man."

"I'm right here and I can hear what you're saying."

Rue pretended _not_ to hear. "That's Hopeless," a short man, who smiled in a friendly manner, "and I'm sure you've heard of Skulduggery. I think everyone has, at this stage."

The skeleton simply tipped his head in greeting.

Trying his best not to look overwhelmed, Dexter nodded. "Hi."

"Welcome to the Dead Men, Vex." Skulduggery stood gracefully, brushing trace amounts of dirt off his woollen clothes.

"Um.. I'm not actually a part of the group yet.."

Those empty sockets fixed on him. "Of course you are."

At a loss, Dexter glanced to Saracen for help. The shorter man smiled sheepishly. "Ah... Yes. Dexter is only temporarily joining us."

"'_Temporarily_'?"Shudder repeated, face blank as he studied Vex. "You cannot temporarily be a Dead Man."

Pretending like he hadn't heard a word Shudder had said, Saracen stretched and pointed at the tents. "Hey, should we start setting those up?"

Shaking his head in mock defeat, Ghastly stood and began gathering his own unassembled tent up. "We're not setting up camp here. We're going out further; we need to be closer to the mountains."

"Mountains?" Dexter glanced at Saracen uncertainly. "What exactly _is_ this 'recon' mission?"

Shudder turned his blank stare on the new member of the group again, and said seriously "We are hunting witches."


	2. Chapter 2

The first night Dexter had a nightmare, the Dead Men had grabbed their guns and formed a protective circle, looking out for someone to shoot.

It was Anton who had realised that the Dexter wasn't screaming because he was being attacked, but because he was dreaming.

It was now the third night.

The third night of camping in a little tent with Saracen. It was a wonder the dark-haired man hadn't simply thrown him out. It couldn't have been easy, what with Dexter keeping him up all night. Unintentionally, of course, but he still felt guilty about it.

Saracen didn't complain. He didn't demand an explanation. He didn't think any less of him.

When Dexter started thrashing in his sleep, little whimpers escaping his mouth, Saracen edged over to him and gently shook his arm. "Vex? Wake up."

The thrashing and whimpering didn't stop.

"Vex. Dexter. Wake up." He whispered again, shaking the taller man's shoulder.

Dexter awoke with a jerk, gasping out loudly and clutching at nothing. It took a moment for his eyes to focus; partly because it was dark, and partly because tears were blurring his vision. "Whuh-"

"It's okay. You're safe." He didn't ask what the nightmare had been about, although he had an idea; there were only so many things that could cause nightmares like that. War would be one of them, but Dexter was neutral. Another would be some form of childhood trauma... like abuse.

Tears slipped slowly down Dexter's handsome face, and he made no effort to wipe them away. "I'm sorry." He managed to choke out, his voice thick with the emotion he was struggling to hold back."

Frowning, Saracen shuffled closer and patted one of Vex's shoulders awkwardly. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Are you okay?"

No answer.

Instead, Dexter curled in on himself, his knees to his chest and his head buried in his legs. Saracen watched with a frown. After a moment, he crawled closer to the curled up ball on the ground and lay next to him. "Dexter. Look at me."

Slowly, watery blue eyes were raised to meet brown ones.

"No one is going to hurt you. They'd have to get passed me, and I won't let that happen. You can go back to sleep. You're safe." Saracen offered him a small smile, before relaxing back beside him.

Dexter curled up into Saracen's side, resting his head on the smaller man's shoulder.

They didn't say anything.

They didn't have to.

...

"How is he?" Skulduggery's tone was casual.

Saracen glanced over at the subject of their conversation, before turning his attention back to his breakfast; stale bread. "Tired, I would imagine." He sighed and shook his head. "I asked him to come and sit with us, but I think it'll take some time until he's comfortable being around us."

All of them subtly glanced over to Dexter; the blond man was eating on his own beside a tree trunk, away from the group. It seemed to be his ritual after a night of nightmares; avoid people.

"Saracen... I know it's not any of our business, but.."

"His father." The shortest member of the group answered the question before it was asked, wincing slightly.

Ghastly frowned, and Anton looked troubled. "And.. what exactly..?"

"I don't know." Saracen muttered, scowling.

"But-"

"Hush. He will tell us when he's ready." Skulduggery murmured, tapping his fingers against his kneecap as he watched the others eat. "For now, we need to get closer to the witches lair."

Grunting in acknowledgment, Ghastly got to his feet. After a moment of consideration, he glanced at Dexter and called out to him. "Hey, Vex! C'mere."

Glancing round at the sound of his name, Dexter paused uncertainly. "Why?"

"I want to see what sort of skills you've got. You're an Energy Thrower, right?"

A nod.

"What's your hand-to-hand combat like?"

"I'm.. not sure."

"Well, come here. If it needs improving, we can improve it."

Reluctantly getting to his feet and crossing the clearing, Dexter paused in front of the scarred man and cleared his throat uncertainly. "Okay. So..?"

"Hit me."

Blinking in surprise, he stared at the tailor in trepidation. "Sorry, what?"

"Hit me. As hard as you can."

"I don't-"

"_Just hit me_!"

Faster than anyone could comprehend, Dexter's arm had flashed out and delivered a clean right-hook across Ghastly's jaw.

The tailor actually stumbled back a single step. Surprised, he eyed Dexter appraisingly. "Nice hit. I was prepared for a little sissy slap. That was actually good, well done."

Unprepared for the sudden compliment, Dexter just blinked. "Oh. Um. Thanks."

Saracen was grinning at him from where he was sprawled on a fallen log. "It takes a lot to make Ghastly stumble."

A small, proud smile appeared on Dexter's face. _I did something well._

...

The sun was twinkling across the water, and the sky was clear and blue.

Saracen watched appraisingly as Dexter stripped down and waded into the lake to wash himself. The younger man's body was strong, well-muscled and tanned. Saracen couldn't help but grin as he watched him. "Lookin' good, Vex."

Barely glancing up, Dexter splashed water at him. He focused on washing the dirt off his chest, ignoring the dignified squawk from Saracen. "Are you coming in?"

"Nah, I'll just stay here and admire the view."

Vex just rolled his eyes.

After about ten minutes, he walked back to the shore. "Hand me my clothes." He called to Saracen as he shook his arms dry.

"No."

"Saracen!"

The dark-haired man grinned widely. "I'm liking the no-clothes look on you. You should keep it."

Scowling, Dexter grabbed his clothes away from the shorter man. "For heaven's sake.."

"Where did you get those scars?" Saracen asked suddenly, staring at the other man's chest. Pale pink scars decorated the otherwise smooth flesh. Now that Saracen was looking, he noticed them on Dexter's arms, legs and back, too.

Dexter had stiffened. "Nowhere."

"Well they didn't just appear-"

"I said _nowhere_, Saracen!"

Saracen fell quiet.

...

"Nice shot!" Ravel laughed, clapping Dexter on the shoulder. "That was a proper bullseye!"

Shaking the excess energy from his hands, Dexter allowed himself another tiny smile as he stared at the target he had hit. "That was good?"

"Good?" Ravel laughed again, this time in disbelief. "I don't think I've ever seen such a good shot from an Energy Thrower! Usually their aim is all over the place!"

The painted wooden target was still smoking from where the pure energy had struck it. Dexter felt a small amount of pride bubble inside him. Maybe he wasn't completely useless after all.

...

Skulduggery kicked over a piece of broken wood and crouched down, looking intently at the floor. "They were here."

"Well, they're gone now." Ghastly sighed, looking around the abandoned cave. Faint evidence of past inhabitants littered the floor; scraps of cloth, ashes of a fire, rotten food. "Probably moved east."

With a sigh, Skulduggery stood again and led the way out of the cave, to where the others were waiting. "Looks like they moved east. They're probably heading up to the docks in Dublin. They want to leave the country."

Rolling his golden eyes, Ravel picked up his travel bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Let's go, then."

Grumbling, the others gathered up their things and moved to follow Ravel back down the hill they had walked up. Saracen grabbed Dexter's arm and motioned for him to wait.

Once the others had gone out of earshot, Saracen turned and smiled sheepishly. "I know I promised that this mission would be a short one, but it seems like it's turning into quite a lengthy one... will you stay to see it finished?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Dexter glanced down at his feet. In truth, he wasn't too sure about how he felt about the Dead Men, and the idea of becoming one. In the week he had been with them, the guys had unknowingly made him feel way better about himself and everything he did. They praised him for little things, and listened to him while he spoke. Like he mattered. It was a strange thing for him.

"Dexter?"

"Look," he scuffed his tattered shoe into the ground, "I wanted to come with the Dead Men for one reason."

"My charm and good looks?"

"Two reasons, then."

Saracen couldn't hold back his laugh. "Okay, tell me. What was the other reason?"

"The Dead Men go on suicide missions."

The smile slid off Saracen's face like liquid and he paled. "Dexter..."

"I'm sorry. I just-I heard someone mention it, and then you asked me to come with you, and all I could think was '_This is it, this is my way out_'-"

"Dexter, stop." Saracen stepped forwards, frowning deeply. "I didn't know that."

"I thought you knew everything." Vex laughed. It was humourless.

"No, far from it." Still frowning, Saracen gently took the taller man's hand.

Taking a deep breath, Dexter continued. "Then you were all so nice, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't think the nightmares would be that bad. I keep you all awake at night and you must hate me for it, and I'm so sorry-"

"No, Dexter, that's not-"

"See? Even now, you're being nice."

"_Listen_ to me!" Saracen said frustratedly, squeezing on the hand in his grasp. "For God's sake, Vex! The minute you entered this group, you made six new friends. And friends fight for each other. They protect each other. They love each other for _everything_, even their problems. The men you're now friends with? They are some of the bravest, most loyal people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting in my whole life. I can promise you that we will stand by you no matter what."

Dexter couldn't make eye contact. "I don't understand why."

"You.. What do you mean?"

"Why would you all want to stick with me like that?"

"That's a stupid question." Saracen frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "Why would you even ask that? It's because we like you. You're our friend now."

"I don't-"

"Tell me about your father."

Whatever Dexter had been saying died on his tongue, and he stared in horror at the other man. "Excuse me?"

"Your father. Tell me about him."

"I- I don't-"

"I've heard you. During your nightmares. I don't mean to listen, but you shout sometimes." _All the time_, "He hurt you, didn't he?"

Silence. "I don't want to talk about it."

Saracen stifled a sigh. "Whatever he used to say to you, it's not true. You're not worthless, and people do care about you."

The taller man's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise. "How did you know what he said-?"

"I know things," Saracen murmured, shrugging. "I don't know _exactly_ what he did, but I have an idea."

There was another painfully long silence, before Dexter clenched his jaw and looked away. "My mother died giving birth to my sister. My father turned to alcohol to try and cope, but it only fuelled his anger with everything. So he beat us instead."

Saracen listened closely, saying nothing.

"Maeve, my sister, was so small... Only four when he started to hit her. She'd cry... she wouldn't understand why he was angry with her. The bruises would be so obvious on her skin... she was always so pale. I couldn't watch that..."

It clicked sharply in Saracen's head, and he winced. "Oh. You took it for her."

"_She was four_." Tears pricked at the corners of Dexter's eyes, and he wiped them away angrily. "She was just a _child_."

"How old were you?"

A sigh. "I was nine. I was older, stronger. I could take it better than she could. I had to. If my father had hit her the way he hit me, he would have killed her. He almost killed me by accident a few times, but if it had been Maeve..? She would never have lasted as long as she did."

It was hard to miss the use of past tense. "What happened to her?"

An angry gust of air blew out of Dexter's mouth and he glared at the sky. More tears leaked out of the corners of his blue eyes; this time, he made no effort to wipe them away. "My father came home early one day. He was drunk. He always was. I had gone out to get food for Maeve... Basically, the drunken bastard set the house on fire." He didn't see Saracen's wide, horrified eyes; he was too busy avoiding his gaze. "He escaped. Maeve didn't. She was eleven." His voice cracked on the last word, and he choked slightly.

At a loss, Saracen stepped forward and awkwardly placed his hand on Dexter's shoulder. He was shrugged off. "I'm so sorry, Dexter. But I meant it when I said that friends love each other, problems and all."

"... Just don't tell anyone."

It sounded like a request.

Saracen just nodded. "Okay." He said simply.

Clearing his throat, Dexter glanced down the path. "We should catch up with the others."

"Sure."

It was only then that they realised that they were still holding hands. Saracen released his grip on Dexter immediately, clearing his throat. Dexter coughed awkwardly.

"Let's go."

"Yeah."

They set off down the path together at a steady pace. After a moment of quiet, Saracen spoke up again. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Sharing that with me."

Vex shrugged. "Don't let it inflate your ego."

"Too late. I think you're starting to like me."

"I think you're thinking too much of yourself."

"Nonsense. What's not to like? I mean, just look at me."

"That's the point."

Grinning, Saracen mock-punched the other man on the shoulder. "Shut up. I don't care what you think, I'm awesome."


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is the third and final chapter! I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading it**

** ~Anzi**

"I vote we break his arms and legs."

"We have no proof. We can't just barge in and-"

"Proof? _Proof_? You want _proof_? Are those nightmares not proof _enough_ for you?" Anton was livid; almost spitting mad. "He screams. I can hear him screaming for help, begging for the pain to stop. If that's not proof, I don't know _what_ is. I don't need anymore proof after those nightmares. I vote we break his arms and legs."

Ghastly sighed, twisting his hands in his lap and frowning. "I know, I know... But say we're wrong? What if we do something rash, and we've read the situation entirely wrong?"

"We are not wrong." Anton said firmly, his eyes gleaming brightly in the firelight. "Saracen, you have been remarkably quiet. You usually jump at the chance to talk about Dexter. What do you think?"

Saracen, who had been sitting at the edge of the group, sighed and glanced up. All the expectant eyes were on him. "What do you want me to say?"

"Are we right about Dexter's father?"

A pause. "I promised him I wouldn't tell you."

"That's it." Anton had stood up so fast he blurred. "Forget witches, we are going to hunt that son of a bitch down right now."

"Sit down, Anton." Skulduggery's voice floated from the other side of the fireside. His eyeless sockets were staring deeply into the flames as he thought. "If we are going to find Dexter's father, we need to plan what it is we're going to do to him."

"Break his arms and legs."

"Yes, noted. It just doesn't seem.. _painful_ enough."

"We can cause more pain once his bones have been broken. After all, with no limbs he can never hurt anyone again."

Saracen nodded approvingly. "I think we should take all his clothes and burn them, too. And maybe roll him around in cow shit."

"Yes.. That sounds good." Erskine was nodding now, tapping his chin. "We can piss on him too."

"Maybe we should leave the excrements for another day." Skulduggery murmured, although a grin was audible in his voice.

"No, no, I like the excrements." Ghastly laughed, clapping his hands. "Although before we break his bones, I want to have a go with him."

"Get in line, tailor-boy." Saracen said, reclining back casually. "I'm first."

They spent another hour laughing gleefully and planning, until finally Saracen stood with a yawn and pointed back to his tent. "I'm going to check on Dexter."

The others nodded, but didn't break from the planning. Stretching as he walked, Saracen ducked into the tent, expecting to find Dexter wiggling around in his terror-filled dreams again.

Instead, the blond man was sitting upright, and his blue eyes shot to stare at Saracen as he entered the tent. "Would you really?"

The smaller man paused, staring back. "Would I really what?"

"Break his arms and legs."

"Shit. You heard that?" Sighing, Saracen sat across from him and frowned. "You weren't meant to.." he cut himself off as Dexter stared expectantly at him. "Yeah, we would. He hurt you, Dexter, and he can't do that. I understand if you don't want us to, but he deserves it and-"

His sentence was cut short as Dexter threw himself at him and almost crushed him in a hug. "Thank you." The blond man whispered breathlessly.

"Um.. No problem." Saracen shifted slightly, rubbing Dexter's back comfortingly. "We'd do anything for you, you know that. _I'd_ do anything for you."

Dexter pulled back slightly from the hug, but didn't let go. There was silence as they stared at each other, laughs and snatches of conversation carried on the wind from the other Dead Men. Their noses were touching. "Saracen?"

"Yeah?" The dark haired man whispered back, his voice husky.

"I think I want to stay with the Dead Men. I want to stay permanently."

"I want you to stay permanently too."

"Then I will." Dexter whispered, and then they were kissing.

It was slow and gentle and sweet, and Dexter had never experienced anything like it before. Saracen reached up and cupped the other man's cheek. He stroked down Dexter's back with the other hand, allowing the slightly taller man to lean into him further.

After about a minute they broke apart. Dexter's bright blue eyes were wide, and he stared at Saracen for a long time. "Can you sleep beside me tonight? In case of nightmares?"

"I'll sleep beside you whenever you want, Vex." Saracen grinned, shuffling over and laying down in Dexter's sleeping spot. He opened his arms in an invitation and raised a brow.

Grinning in return, Dexter lay down next to him and rested his head on the shorter man's chest. "Imagine the rumours if the villagers could see us now. Dexter Vex and Saracen Rue; what a scandal!"

Saracen burst out laughing, and kissed the silky blond hair in front of him. "Screw them."

"I'd rather screw _you_."

This time Saracen choked slightly. He recovered quickly, however, looking down at sly look on Dexter's face. "I'm going to have to take you up on that offer. Not tonight, of course. Tonight, you need to rest."

Rolling his eyes, Dexter pulled Saracen in for another kiss, before laying down again. "Fine. Good night."

"Night, Dexter."

...

Saracen paced around the campsite as Erskine lit the fire. The shorter man kept glancing around expectantly, waiting for someone to come through the trees. Finally, he turned to Erskine and growled in frustration. "Where _are_ they?!"

"They'll be back soon, unknot your knickers."

Saracen snarled at his friend, before sitting heavily on one of the logs. "They'll be reckless, I know they will."

"They're just gone to one of the nearby villages to get some food. They're not gone out of the country. Don't get into such a tizzy." Erskine shook his head, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Why are they taking so long?"

"You know them, they probably stopped to chat up some pretty ladies."

"That doesn't sound like them. That sounds like _you_."

Erskine paused, then snorted and nodded. "Yeah. What can I say, the ladies love me." He ignored Saracen's rather insulting muttered comment. "I'm telling you though, they'll have stopped to flirt with some women. I think I heard Ghastly planning to introduce Dexter to some girls."

The shorter man had gone very still. "Why would he do that?"

"Give him some experience, I suppose? Dexter deserves a break, you know that more than anyone."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Erskine raised a brow at the defensive tone. "I mean that you '_know things_'. So surely you would know how much he needs a break."

"Oh."

It looked as though Erskine was about to say more, but at that moment the sounds of the others returning reached them. "We'll talk later." He said, just as Ghastly and Skulduggery broke through the trees. Dexter and Anton came behind them, chatting amicably. Watching them walk over and sit around the fire, Erskine raised his eyebrows. "Where's Hopeless?"

"He met a lady. Decided to stay the night with her." Ghastly grinned, setting down the basket of food he was carrying.

Saracen ignored the extremely pointed look Erskine was sending him. "So what took you so long?"

"Other than Hopeless chatting up every woman he saw until one took pity on him and brought him home with her?" Skulduggery asked, sitting close to the fire. "Ghastly tried to insist on Dexter doing the same thing."

Saracen shot a barely-noticeable glare at Ghastly, who grinned unapologetically. "He didn't even have to _flirt_, they were lining up for him!" The tailor clapped Dexter on the back. "Don't blame them, to be honest."

The blond man shot Ghastly a strange look. "What?"

"Well, I mean.. _I_ would definitely do you."

Dexter stared in blank shock.

Grinning, Ghastly shrugged. "I think _everyone_ here would. Erskine?"

"Hm.." Ravel ran his golden eyes across Dexter's body, taking in every detail. After a moment of intense scrutiny, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I would."

"Anton?"

Shudder tilted his head, his sharp eyes thoughtful. He nodded. "Yes."

"Skulduggery would if he could, but let's not go there." Ghastly grinned as Skulduggery held up a skeletal middle finger. "I'd say Hopeless would if he were here too. Saracen?"

Instead of answering immediately, Saracen glanced at Dexter and winked. Dexter's blush was both adorable and hilarious. "Most definitely."

Blushing so furiously he was practically glowing, Dexter stood and cleared his throat. "I'm just gonna, um.. go over here."

The Dead Men watched as their newest member fled the embarrassing situation, before they all burst out laughing.

Shaking his head, Ghastly said "Hey Saracen, go tell him we were only messing. I mean, we meant it, but we're not _actually_ going to bang him."

Still laughing, Saracen nodded and followed Dexter's path to their tent. "Dexter?" He called as he ducked inside.

The blond man looked up from the corner, where he was holding a box. "Oh. Hey."

"The others were only messing with you."

"Were _you_?"

"No." Saracen admitted, shrugging. "But you knew that."

Seeming almost satisfied, Dexter glanced down at the box in his hands. "I got you something when we were at the village."

Curiosity piqued, the shorter man shuffled further into the tent towards the other man. "You didn't have to do that, Dexter."

"Nah, I wanted to." Smiling almost shyly, he held the box out.

Taking the box, Saracen peered at it curiously and opened it up. Inside, were a pair of well-made leather boots. "Oh my- Jesus, Dexter. Where did you get these?" They looked extremely expensive.

"Shoe shop."

"But.. You have no money."

"Well, I mean.. I didn't exactly buy them."

"You stole shoes for me?"

Uncertain as to what reaction he was going to get, Dexter nodded nervously.

A bright smile crossed Saracen's face. So Dexter hadn't been flirting with other people while he had been in the village; he had been thinking of Saracen. "Thank you!" He leaned forwards and kissed the taller man heartily. He pulled back, grinning. "I came up with a nickname for you while you were away. I think it suits you."

"Yeah?"

"Sexter." Saracen nodded calmly.

The taller man paused and stared uncertainly. "Sorry?"

"Sexter. Sexter Sex. It's good, right?"

"I think it might be best if you don't call me that."

"Nonsense. I love it."

"Saracen-"

"Yes, Sexter?"

"You're impossible!" Dexter burst out laughing.

It was so good to see him smiling; it made Saracen smile too. "I know, I know. I'm incorrigible." He gave a dashing smile.

It was times like these Dexter was so grateful for joining the Dead Men. Because Saracen had been right; he had never been cared for and loved more. And he had never cared for and loved anyone else more than he did these men.

Sometimes he considered what his life might be like if Saracen had never sat across from him in that bar that night so many months ago. He preferred not to think about it. His thoughts always strayed back to the night the others had been flustered around the campfire as he listened in, plotting to maim the person that had ever dared to harm Dexter. They had never done it, at Dexter's request to simply let the past lie, but Saracen had told him that all he needed to do was say the word and his father would be permanently disposed of. It was his choice.

And that was something he had never even considered happening. He had a choice. He could easily tell his new friends to make the man that had hurt him suffer. He could ask them to kill him. They would do it, he knew they would.

But..

If there was one thing Dexter did not want, it was to be like his father. He refused to stoop that low. He was going to come to terms with everything in his own time, and he knew that causing his father the same amount of suffering he had caused him wouldn't ease any of the pain.

Saracen stood by him on all his choices, whether he agreed with them or not, and that gave Dexter such an enormous boost of confidence.

Because now not only did he know that the Dead Men were friends for life, and that they had his back and would never let anyone harm him, but he also knew he would do the same for them. He would lay down his life for those men if he was asked to.

And that was a pretty great thing for Dexter. Before, he had nothing, but now? Now he had the six greatest friends in the world.

War or no war, life could only get better.

**~FIN~**


End file.
